


Not Like Them

by Attorney C (arh581958)



Series: #MarveyWeek [7]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternative Universe - FBI, Android!Mike, Day 4 - Almost Human, Detective!Harvey, Emotional, M/M, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Smut, android sex, harvey!feels, marveyweek, mike!feels, slight ansty vibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Attorney%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have always been complicated between Detective Specter and his android partner Mike. There's always been a tension between them. Today is the day that Harvey breaks his own moral code and does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like Them

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ Marveyweek ](http://fuckyeahmarvey.tumblr.com/post/137395748176/marvey-appreciation-week-january-20th-26th-we) on tumblr! Day 4 - Almost Human AU.

“You’re not like them.” Detective Specter says. It’s dark. The cold night breeze floods through the open window, chilling the over-heated air between them. He has known that from the start but it doesn’t stop him from saying it. He stares down at his DRN partner.

He takes in the smooth pale skin, the expressive long gold-dusted eye lashes, the lowered big blue eyes that twinkle whenever they solve a problem, the imperfect nose that looks like it’s been repaired a few times, and the curve of the red-colored lips with a soft-looking pink tongue darting out as the android speaks.

“I should take that as a compliment,” Mike says, deliberately slow and full of meaning like he _knows_. He knows just what Harvey is thinking, just what Harvey wants to do, like he _knows_ Harvey. He steps away from the stool and pads, feet bare, across the dark wooden floor. “You aren’t either.” He teases with a small, sly, grin.

It makes Harvey huff out a breath. “I _will_ take that as a compliment.” He tells Mike. Yet, even as he says it, his breath hitches at their proximity, his chest constricts with the warm air, and his mouth dries up. “No,” he says, reaching out but not touching. He can’t. It’ll be taboo. It’ll be taking advantage. It’ll be… _wrong_. But he wants to. “I’m not like any of them.”

“No, you’re not.” Mike says in amusement. He molds his body into Harvey’s front—naked synthetic skin on his long seemingly unending legs, human cotton boxers covering his genitals, and smooth hairless chest brushing against Harvey’s shirt buttons. His blue eyes stare straight into Harvey’s own, accessing.

“Scans show elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, increased excretion of sweat, rapid blood flow to the lower region of the body.” He leans in, hands burying into Harvey’s hair like they are built to be there, and his breath brushes Harvey’s lips, “Your pupils are dilated, irises at .03 millimeters, dilation diameter at .5 centimeters.”

Harvey holds his breath as Mike nearly closes the gap between them.

Mike smiles and brushes his lips to Harvey’s ear. “All signs indicate heightened arousal. If I didn’t know better, Detective, I’d say you were attracted to me.” He says with a grin that nearly splits his face. It’s amazing how his clear blue eyes can be so expressive. When he’s face blossoms into something so innocent, tempting, and sweet, it’s like he’s almost—human. The thought make’s Harvey growl.

“Mine,” Harvey grits through his teeth. His arms shoots out, wrapping around the arch of Mike’s back, and pulling the blond closer to him. Not an inch of spare is pared between their bodies. It’s like Mike was made for him, seeing as they fit so perfectly together, their bodies the perfect complement, the perfect opposites. “Say it,” he demands.

“Yours.” Mike answers him, fingers tight in brunette tresses, “I’m yours Harvey, only yours, from the day you woke me up. I’ll always be yours.”

Then, Harvey kisses him or he kisses Harvey. The semantics, the _who’s who_ , doesn’t matter. As long as they are kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until both of them run out of air. Mike’s hands muse up Harvey’s hair, releasing the dark strands from their cage of gel, while Harvey’s are on Mike’s hips, holding the other in a powerful grip.

Mike whines and keens when Harvey touches him. “Take me to bed, Harvey.” He says—he pleads—when they part. His lips are swollen red, bottom lip puffier than the upper, shiny where their saliva has touched. Even more so as he chews on it. His hands clutch Harvey’s hair like anchors.  

Harvey can _see_ every single emotion that flickers in Mike’s face: anxiety, fear, and hope. There’s too much in Mike’s clear blue eyes to contradict the _humanness_ of all those emotions. Harvey runs his hand up the curve of Mike’s back, even through the fabric, he can feel the heat emanating from Mike’s skin. It’s too hot _not_ to be real. He makes an inhuman noise.

The medical kit falls to the ground: bottles clatter, sterilized wrap bandages roll out, the scissors clatters along with the small box of needles and thread. Mike is heaved onto the counter in one swift motion and Harvey is on him within seconds, crawling onto the counter on all fours, trapping him with his body.

They kiss.

Mike’s hand are trapped in Harvey’s, suspended over his head, forcing him to stretch his entire body. His legs are pinned to the countertop by Harvey’s weight. The temperature between them rises. He’s like a flame and Harvey’s the moth or he’s the moth and Harvey’s the flame. Either way, it’s wrong, it’s unconventional… but it _feels_ so right.

“Harvey,” Mike calls out his partner’s name, like it’s the only word that matters, like it’s the only thing his state-of-the-art processors can say. “Harvey, Harvey, Harvey,” he repeats over and over again because Harvey’s on top of him, Harvey’s kissing him, Harvey _wants_ him. It’s too much and too little, the way their hips grind against each other. “Harvey,” he says, praying that the older man will understand.

Harvey wants to touch. Harvey wants to _feel_.

“Keep them there,” he commands, releasing Mike’s wrists. He touches. He starts with the soft blond hair, silky and smooth and _smells amazing,_ even if they’ve just come from a nearly forty-eight hour stake out. He goes to Mike’s face, the face that time and time again has saved him from his inner demons.

He takes it all in; the wideness of his forehead, the arch of his thick eyebrows, the flutter of his eye lashes, the brightness of his clear blue eyes, the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the softness of his cheeks, the fullness of his lips, and the strength of his jaw. He cannot help but wonder why he thought such a face was plain before.

“Beautiful,” he thinks now, unknowingly saying it aloud, “so, so beautiful.”

Mike blushes, unused to the compliment, unused to being cared for—unused to being loved.

“Harvey,” he says again. This time, once more he disobeys an order and touches Harvey’s hands, enclosing on in his palm. He turns to it, no longer wanting to witness the full intensity of Harvey’s yearning brown eyes. He kisses the skin, the gun calloused roughness and the wounds that haven’t fully healed.

They kiss again.

Harvey bears down his full weight on Mike’s body, feeling their cloth-covered erection rub against each other in a hair-raising jolt. He shudders, full body, relishing the sensation of Mike’s body responding to him in the most delicious ways.

“Mike, Mike, Mike,” It’s like he can’t stop saying it.

Mike cants his hips. “Come on, Harvey,” He moans, urging Harvey on, “come on or I’ll rip a _fucking_ hole in these expensive _fucking_ boxers! Or I’ll flip us over and fuck myself on your body if you don’t fucking---ohhh!” His eyes roll back when Harvey finally _touches_ him, roughed fingers and all.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out, unable to vocally describe the sensations. It’s like fire and water, roughness and smoothness, pleasure and pain, thrumming through a single point. Harvey’s hands are amazing, are genius, are talented, are crafted by the great holy one himself.

“Good,” Harvey coos in his ear, “Moan for me, Mike, let me hear you. I want to hear you.”

“Ha—ha—Harvey!” Mike shouts, hands holding on to Harvey’s arm. “Har—veeeeey!” he whines as the hand leaves him, hanging, begging. A second later, there’s a cool rush of air on his lower half.  He opens his eyes to the most amazing sight: Harvey, tousled, rumpled, unkept, lips red, hair a mess, sweaty, with his shirt hanging open.

He knows he has the hottest man on the force straddling him right now. He catches a glimpse of a silver foil packet and immediately swats it away. This is the first time, this might be the only time, that Senior Detective Harvey Specter will abandon his morals and concede against his better judgement. Mike wants to _feel_ everything and _remember_ this experience.

“No condoms,” Mike begs, opening his legs. He could blush later or delete the very human _shame_ and _embarrassment_ that he feels at this very moment later. But, right now, he needs Harvey to just— _fuck him_. “I can’t—I can’t catch anything. I’m obviously clean. But if you…” he regrets voicing it out in the first place. “If still want to… for yourself… then you can… we can…”

Harvey silences him with a kiss. “Okay,” he says a moment later, “okay, no condoms.” Then he pulls away with a wicked grin on his face. “ _If_ you let me help you clean up my mess after _._ ”

Mike’s face burns with a word that more potent than shame but he can’t put a name to it. He can’t possibly… can he? He isn’t programmed to think like this. He can’t _think_. He can’t _function_. He’s overriding his own moral compass. But he _needs_ … he needs… “Yes,” he breathes out because he needs this to have a follow through.

Harvey kisses him again and it’s easy, it’s light. Mike wants to feel that thick throbbing thing marking him from the inside. He wants to take back his word because a part of him, a very selfish part of him, wants to keep Harvey’s mess inside him for longer than just a few minutes, to be able to walk around all day, all week, knowing that he’s carrying a part of Harvey with him.

Harvey rummages through the kitchen drawer and pulls out a tube.

Mike doesn’t have time to question it because Harvey’s suddenly touching behind his balls and—“Ohhhhhh,” his eyes roll back for the second time in one evening. It’s a good kind of different that makes his toes curl and his whole body shudder. Harvey’s fingers work him open, into a place where he’s never thought to take pleasure from but he so desperately wants Harvey to fill.

“Ohhh Harvey, that’s—that’s—s,” He can’t say anymore because it’s full, it’s a stretch, and Harvey’s filling him. He clutches his own legs, pulling it to his chest, giving Harvey space and---there’s stars behind his eyes for reason he cannot explain. “It’s so _goooooooood_.” He moans, loud and wanton and it echoes through the space. “So fucking good Harvey…”

Harvey takes his time, hands on Mike’s ankles for purchase as he pounds into his partner over and over and over again. Mike is squeezing his cock in warm, wet, heat that’s _perfect_ and nothing like he’s ever experienced in his long adult like.

Even if his knees hurt from the table, even if they’re sliding up and down the marble at every thrust, even if Mike’s become an incoherent mess beneath him—he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Mike is stunning: eyes closed, mouth open in an ‘o’, thin sheen of sweat everywhere. He looks human, he feels human, he _should_ be human. Harvey can’t think of him as anything but _human_. He can’t be anything less than an autonomous, self-aware, human being because Harvey is currently fucking his brains out and he’s _loving_ it.

“Harvey!” Mike shouts, ass clamping down Harvey’s dick in a vise-like grip, as he comes in white spurts all over his stomach, chest, and face. “Harvey,” he purrs like a kitten despite his entire frame being wrecked in tremors. His hands holding tight onto Harvey’s wrists. His eyes open wide like he’s seeing everything for the first time.

Harvey’s orgasm follows after a few more powerful thrusts. By then, Mike’s eyes have fluttered close and his breathing has evened out. Harvey comes and comes and comes until Mike’s ass is too full and starts leaking where they are connected. When he pulls away, the trail of white follows down Mike’s ass-cheeks and cools on the marble.

Harvey doesn’t bother tucking himself in. He takes Mike’s prone form off the counter and brings them both to bed. He strips their clothes, uncaring which goes where or what falls wherever. He slides under the covers and scoots behind the sleeping Mike, wrapping an arm around the unmarred pale flesh, feeling the heat on his own skin.

Asleep, like this, he almost forgets that Mike is not human.

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot for now. Honestly, I'm cramming all my #MarveyWeek stories! Ohh. I'm a day late. *cries*. So what dyou guys think? Continue? 
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr.


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